


You Wish

by Luce_cm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader Insert, fluffy blurb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luce_cm/pseuds/Luce_cm
Summary: You wish you could be so many things, if only to grant him a blink of the happiness, the peace, you know he is due.





	You Wish

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of fluffy Bucky blurb I’ve had going around my head for a while.

You wish you were a sculptor, so you could print in stone the twitch in his lip when he tries to hide a smile, more an instinct to protect himself from the pain of showing humanity programmed through years of torture than a conscious decision, that still is surpassed quietly by the man with the haunted eyes; so you could immortalize the creases around his eyes when happiness breaks through the hardened steel keeping inside a scared soldier, a charming boy, a desolated man; so he could see the way you see him, the quiet strength, the strong body and gentle gaze; so a record other than his own memories would be kept of the sinuous way his body works, muscles twitching with the weight of a world that was never his to hold, eyes screwed shut over a pain never deserved by anyone but those who forced it upon him.

You wish you were a painter, so even time would lose a battle over the stormy blue of his eyes, the subtle changes in their color, sometimes the most quiet of seas, crystalline-blue waters teasing at the coast’s feet, sometimes the dark and dangerous swirls of an enraged ocean; so the world could know of the faint scar above his right brow, another, more hidden proof of his survival, of the scattered freckles over his shoulder blades, small galaxies for you to trace with gentle fingers when sleep eludes him, when ghosts haunt his thoughts; so there can be an immortal proof of his victory of those who tried to turn his heart to stone, his lights to shadows, traced in brush and oil those swift moments that you will gladly remember when he cannot, the spark in his eye at a well placed joke, the slight tint of his cheeks at the whisper of a gentle praise, the slight trace of your lipstick on his own magnetic, always seeking, always waiting lips.

You wish you could be a writer, so that entire sonnets would be composed over the rare and miraculous sound of his laughter, and the way the gravelly sound is, to your ears, the ultimate proof of his strength, that simple, sometimes quiet and almost ashamed sound; so that there would be a way to show those soft tendrils of a man lost to time, a scared soldier and a charming boy, calling through broken memories and jagged pieces to the man with the metal arm and the gentle smile, a way to place them somewhere other than that golden place in your heart, where forever the slip in his accent will be saved, the defiant shine in his eye, the soft memories of long-ago believed lost nicknames; so that there would be away for you to show him his quiet and unwavering strength, the way his mere smile could bring up talents never-yours to the tips of your fingers, prompt you to become the best of artists if only to capture a hint of him, of the way you have seen him bent, brunt and sometimes broken, but yet the burning feeling in your chest remains.

You wish you could be so many things, if only to grant him a blink of the happiness, the peace, you know he is due. But you content yourself with the quiet reassurance in the gentle hold of his hand and yours, the soft press of lips against your own, the gentle weight of a band around your finger and a matching one on his own.

But as you whisper a sealing breath over his lips, you think that maybe, just maybe, as the world reduces to just you two, the lights seeming to flicker in the small wedding venue; that there is no need for you to be, no need for you to bend and twist the muses to your grace, not when you hold his heart in your own, and he yours, not when time seems such a silly concept as promises of forever’s are exchanged in front of friends and family, not when you see in his eyes shinning the most pure happiness you have seen, and trying to replicate it instead of returning it with your own and hoping for it to remain as long as possible seems foolish.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! Also, come say hi on my Tumblr: bucky-is-a-hero-fightme.tumblr.com ! Love, Luce.


End file.
